When Gustave's impressive entourage entered the nursing home, they immediately became the subject of intense speculation among the elderly residents gathered near the entrance. Animated discussions broke out about which fortunate resident possessed such a large and diverse family.
"Look at all those children!" one elderly woman whispered to her companion. "Someone's grandbabies must be visiting!"
"No, no," another resident countered, gesturing toward the Moral Lord with his distinguished bearing. "I think they're here to tour our facilities. That gentleman looks like he might be considering our services."
However, Gustave's group paid little attention to these innocent misunderstandings—their focus remained entirely on Daigo, who had finally located Camearra in the facility's main social area.
Camearra sat beside an elderly woman with silver hair and kind eyes, listening with genuine attention as the woman spoke about her granddaughter. The old lady's face glowed with pride as she described a beautiful young woman who worked too hard and could only visit once monthly.
"You remind me so much of her, dear," the elderly woman was saying. "Same gentle way of listening, same caring heart. She's lucky to have found work she loves, but I wish she didn't work herself so hard."
"Camearra!"
The familiar voice made Camearra freeze mid-nod, her heart skipping as she processed what she'd heard. Daigo should be working at this hour—was she imagining things?
But when she turned, there he stood in his TPC uniform, looking nervous and determined in equal measure. Joy flooded her features as she immediately rose and hurried toward him.
"Daigo! Why are you here?" she asked, happiness radiating from every word. Even without clarity about his feelings, simply seeing him was enough to brighten her entire day.
"The team gave me half a day off," Daigo replied, scratching his head with obvious embarrassment. "I wanted to come see you."
"Really? Thank you, Daigo!" The simple gesture touched her deeply. That he would spend his precious free time visiting her felt like a gift beyond measure.
"Daigo, is your left hand injured?" Camearra asked with sudden concern, noticing how he kept it hidden behind his back. "Why won't you show it?"
The question caught Daigo off-guard, disrupting the carefully rehearsed speech he'd prepared. In his nervousness, all his planned eloquence evaporated, leaving only the most essential truth.
"Camearra... will you be my girlfriend?"
The words hung in the air between them like a bridge spanning thirty million years of separation. Camearra stared at the bouquet of roses he'd produced from behind his back, her mind struggling to process that this moment had finally arrived.
"Ms. Camearra, will you be my girlfriend?" Daigo repeated when she remained silent, concern coloring his voice. Had she not heard him clearly?
"I accept!" she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks as emotions she'd held in check for eons finally found release. "Yes, Daigo! Yes!"
"Camearra, this is for you," he said gently, offering the roses with trembling hands.
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" she replied through her tears, trying desperately to compose herself but finding it impossible. How could she contain the joy and relief of thirty million years in a single moment?
Seeing her continued tears, Daigo began frantically searching his pockets for tissues, his concern overriding any sense of dignity. His clumsy efforts to help only made Camearra cry harder—but now her tears mixed laughter with joy.
As she accepted the roses, something unexpected tumbled from among the stems—a small jewelry box that landed in her palm like a fallen star.
"What's this?" she asked in wonder, staring at the unexpected treasure.
"I didn't know what gift would be appropriate," Daigo explained bashfully, "so I bought you a necklace. I hope... I hope you like it."
He opened the box to reveal the black opal necklace nestled within, its dark surface catching the nursing home's fluorescent lights and throwing back flashes of blue and green fire.
"As long as it comes from you, Daigo, I love it," Camearra replied with absolute sincerity. The gift's monetary value meant nothing compared to what it represented—his thoughtfulness, his commitment, his desire to make this moment special for her.
"May I put it on for you?" he asked softly.
"Please," she whispered, closing her eyes and tilting her head to give him access to her neck.
The elderly residents who'd witnessed this romantic scene beamed with approval. During Camearra's time at the nursing home, they'd grown to love her like family. Seeing her find happiness filled them with vicarious joy.
"How romantic!" Ai sighed wistfully from their hidden observation spot, clearly moved by the genuine emotion on display.
"Romantic? I don't see what's so special," Conan replied with characteristic obtuseness. "Don't all couples confess like this?"
The comment landed with the grace of a meteorite strike. Every member of their group turned to stare at him with expressions ranging from disbelief to murderous intent.
Gustave shook his head in amazement. He'd thought his own romantic instincts were questionable, but Conan had just achieved new levels of romantic obliviousness.
"What?" Conan asked, suddenly aware of the hostile attention focused on him.
Ai rolled her eyes so hard it was audible. How Ran had developed feelings for this romantically hopeless disaster remained one of life's great mysteries.
At that moment, Tom—who'd been peacefully napping on Po's shoulders—was rudely awakened by some disturbance. As he stirred and yawned, he lost his balance and tumbled directly onto Po's head.
"YEOWWWW!" Tom's scream of pain echoed through the nursing home as he launched skyward like a rocket, his cartoon physics taking over completely.
Closer inspection revealed a thumbtack embedded in his posterior—some inconsiderate person had apparently dropped it on the floor of a facility filled with elderly residents who could easily be injured by such carelessness.
Daigo, who'd just finished fastening the necklace around Camearra's neck, spun toward the commotion in alarm. The sight of a screaming cat flying through the air was startling even by his standards.
Realizing their cover was completely blown, Gustave stood up with a sheepish grin and waved.
"Hello there, Daigo!"
Daigo stared at the assembled group in disbelief. First Shinjo had somehow photographed his private moment with Camearra, and now Gustave's entire family had witnessed his confession. Were his anti-surveillance skills really that terrible?
"Big Brother Daigo," Yang Chan stepped forward with genuine remorse, "I'm sorry we followed you secretly. We shouldn't have spied on such a personal moment."
"It's fine, really," Daigo replied warmly, unable to maintain any irritation toward the sweet child. "Besides, if you hadn't helped me understand what I needed to do, I might never have found the courage to come here and confess to Camearra."
He gestured toward the elderly residents who'd observed the entire scene. "We had an audience anyway—a few more friendly faces didn't hurt."
"Thank you all so much," Camearra added, finally understanding that Gustave's group had somehow encouraged Daigo's decision. They were her benefactors, and gratitude was the least she could offer.
"Don't mention it," Gustave replied, though privately he was still adjusting to this gentler version of Camearra. Her transformation from cosmic avenger to caring companion continued to challenge his preconceptions.
"Since everyone's here," Daigo said impulsively, "how about I treat everyone to dinner tonight? It seems like the right way to celebrate."
"Let Daigo and I both treat everyone," Camearra interjected, naturally falling into the rhythm of speaking as a couple. "Thank you for all your kindness during this difficult time."
"That's very generous of both of you," Gustave replied, genuinely touched by the invitation.
Meanwhile, Tom had finally landed and was in the process of extracting the offending thumbtack from his anatomy. As the others continued their conversation about dinner plans, he grew increasingly indignant about being ignored.
Can someone please acknowledge that my pain made this whole celebration possible? he thought irritably. Without me revealing our position, would you even be invited to their engagement dinner?
Unfortunately, everyone remained focused on the happy couple, leaving Tom to nurse his wounded pride along with his injured posterior.
In a fit of pique, he stalked over to a nearby vending machine, somehow produced a coin from behind it, and purchased a bottle of water. However, due to the hole the thumbtack had created, the water immediately began leaking out as fast as he drank it—a perfectly cartoonish demonstration of his wounded dignity.